Twined & Twisted
by Nightvowl
Summary: After striking out on her own, Tara discovers that all roads lead home.
1. Twined & Twisted

**Title: **Twined & Twisted

**Rating**: T

**Synopsis**: After striking out on her own, Tara discovers that all roads lead back home.

**Sup: ** So, I promised I would continue this storyverse and here's the next bit. This takes place right where "Warning" left off. I've been listening to a lot of Valerie June, who's amazing, so that's where the title comes from. I'm prolly gonna jack the titles from like half of her songs for each chapter since they help set the tone in my head. Also, thanks for all the comments on the last story. I think I've sent you all PMs, but if I didn't or you left me an anon review, thanks for taking the time. Raven and Mellow, double thanks to you two for all your awesome feedback and pointing out aspects of the story I didn't even think about until you mentioned it. Not much else to say, but I really hope you enjoy this and can use it to forget about whatever for a while. Feel free to let me know what you think.

**Twined & Twisted**

* * *

When Tara Thornton arrived in the United States for the first time in nearly two decades, her return felt far from triumphant. She was as emotionally spent as she was broke. The initial swell of adrenaline that swept her across the Atlantic had quickly subsided. What remained in its wake was a thick and inescapable residue of doubt that left her questioning herself nearly every minute of the twelve hour flight from London.

Leaving life with her maker behind to focus on the wellbeing of the child she'd come to claim as her own was the right choice in theory. In practice, leaving was as risky a move as staying. And for Nola it was nothing short of traumatic. The girl cried herself bloody during their long journey from Heathrow to the States. Convincing the reps at Anubis to make an exception to their one vampire per pod rule was seemingly outside of the realm of reality. And trying to explain to their icy staff that the baby vamp was terribly claustrophobic and afraid of the dark turned out to be another exercise in futility.

So, in the end, Tara was forced to maneuver the baby vamp into the airline's oversized travel pod kicking, screaming and crying for their flight over the Atlantic. Although the toddler largely slept through the flight and a brief stopover at Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport, she emerged terrified and covered in the dried reminisce of bloody tears at their final destination. The bathroom where Tara washed Nola clean and changed her out of her sullied dress looked like a crime scene by the time they were finished. Were it not for the fact that Anubis provided private post-flight refreshment quarters, Tara was certain human authorities would have arrested her on sight.

Making her way through the terminal of Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport with Nola clinging fearfully to her neck, she overheard two humans lamenting how difficult travel was on their young children.

If only they knew.

As bitter as she was at the experience of traveling, Tara only blamed herself for being so impetuous. She'd left her only source of income and Nola's source of food all in one ill-planned night. There was barely enough in her account to pay for their impromptu six thousand pound flight, let alone the pricey bottled blood the baby vamp consumed every month.

Sat on a bench in the airport pick-up terminal with a pissed off toddler beside her, Tara broke down and prayed to a God she didn't believe in for a reprieve from her troubles.

To her surprise, deliverance quickly arrived driving a purple Cadillac Fleetwood.

"Beep beep, hooker!"

Never had anyone been so glad to be called a prostitute than Tara was in that moment. The stressed out vampire couldn't keep from grinning when she saw her human cousin's face for the first time in decades.

At forty-nine, Lafayette Reynolds was still a sight to behold in his glittering old gold sequin tank top, black cargo pants, and a New Orleans Saints hat cocked to the side of his bald head. Wearing falsies and just the right amount of concealer, the Louisianan would have easily been mistaken for much younger.

"Now see, I did not drag my pretty ass all the way to the airport on a Saturday night for you to stand there and stare at me all night," Lafayette chastised. "You gonna give your cousin a hug or not?"

Tara didn't need to be asked twice. At near warp speed she ran to embrace him.

"Welcome home, bitch," Lafayette said as he held his estranged cousin tightly.

Although Tara had sworn when she left that she would never step foot in Louisiana ever again, she truly did feel like she was home in Lafayette's arms. They'd been as close as siblings once and for the first time in nearly two decades she felt like they could be again.

Both cousins were on the verge of tears when finally they pulled apart. Behind them, hugging a giant pink bunny tightly, Nola watched the reunion play out.

Pulling away, Lafayette noticed the frowning child with unearthly seafoam green eyes overflowing with sadness. "Now who is this pretty little wallflower?" he asked, making a show out of approaching Nola. "What's your name, buttercup?"

The baby vamp's gaze shifted cautiously from Lafayette to Tara, who reassured her with a staid smile. Nola wasn't having any of it. Pouting, she averted her attention to her bunny.

"That's alright, cutie. I hate the airport, too," he reassured, grabbing their luggage. "Let's get up outta here."

* * *

Bounce music bleared from the car stereo as Lafayette cruised by the familiar sights and sounds of the city Tara had fleetingly called home. For the long time expatriate, the experience bordered on surreal. Much remained the same while even more had changed. As she noted the new businesses and housing developments that now stood in place of abandoned buildings and empty lots, Tara wondered if any of her old fighting haunts still existed.

"C'mon now, Tara Mae," Lafayette said, intruding on his brooding cousin's musing. "You can't be messin' up my chakra while Big Freedia's playin."

"Sorry, I'm just," Tara began and quickly got lost in her thoughts. "I don't know."

"Well, take your time not knowin'. I got a place for you to stay until you back on your feet. It's next door to what has got to be loudest bar in Marginy, but it's light-tight and it's safe. I just gotta make one quick stop at and we'll head over."

"Thanks, La," Tara replied genuinely, smacking her cousin lightly on the arm with the back of her hand as she turned back to gaze out the passenger side window.

The French Quarter's ostentatious Creole Townhouses soon gave way to Faubourg Marigny's quaint Creole cottages and Shotgun houses. Even at night the architecture of New Orleans made for an impressive sight. Still, Tara felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of never again being able to see the beauty of the city during the day.

It wasn't long before Lafayette pulled the caddy to a stop in front of a brick townhouse with a bar on the first level.

"Be right back," He mumbled before stepping out to car.

Across the street, Tara watched a silvered haired white man in an expensive looking wool suit anxiously pacing back and forth. His furrowed forehead smoothed the instant he saw Lafayette approach. As meek as a well-trained dog he allowed himself to be led by the silk tie hanging loosely about his neck. Upon stopping in a darkened service entryway the men embraced passionately.

Tara observed their peculiar interaction from inside the car. Her preternatural sight allowing her to see at a distance what most humans would have missed up close, she caught a glimpse of a vial of blood as it was transferred from Lafayette's mouth to the stranger's. Mere moments later they parted ways.

Incensed, Tara jumped out of the car.

"Lafayette Reynolds, I know you have not lost yer fuckin' mind sellin' that shit again!"

"Hey," Lafayette yelled and whispered all at once. "Keep your voice down," He implored, ushering his cousin back to the caddy.

He barely had a chance to register what hit him when he found himself slammed up against a brick wall.

"I can't believe you could still be this damn stupid," Tara spoke scathingly, pushing her muscular forearm into the human's collarbone for emphasis.

"You fell for with the wicked bitch of west and you gonna lecture me about stupidity?"

From the look on Tara's face, Lafayette knew his sucker punch landed harder than he'd planned. Shoving her cousin a final time, Tara eased up and let him off the wall.

"Maybe I been dead to you for twenty years, but life didn't stop for me, Tara. I had to survive some type of way."

"Then get a job!"

Lafayette pulled a thick wad of bills out of his pocket and waved it in his cousin's face.

"What job you know pay me like this, huh? You see any corporate recruiters lookin' to hire a flamboyant black faggot with no education and no experience? You know what they say about desperate times."

"Alright, whatever, fine. It's your life and I'm not gonna tell you how to live it. But I can't stay with you if you're dealin' V, La. I got a little girl to worry about now."

"Tara, you and that little girl _o_fficially the only family I got left. My business is mine and I don't want you nowhere around it. Ya'll can stay at my place and I'll stay wit' a friend."

"Dammit, La," Tara muttered, turning her back on her cousin to head back to his car. Her anger at him was all but gone, but her worry for his safety remained.

* * *

The silent ride to Lafayette's house was blessedly short. From the rearview mirror, Tara could see Nola rubbing her face the way she tended to do when she was beginning to grow hungry. The car crept to a stop in front of a violet and mauve shotgun house with green shutters.

"Like I said, it ain't much but it's safe."

"I like it," Tara complimented, taking a moment to contemplate her temporary digs before she climbed out of the Cadillac to retrieve Nola from the back seat. "It's very…you."

It was an understatement, she soon found.

"You are cordially invited," Lafayette said, breaking the supernatural barrier that would have otherwise barred Tara and Nola from his home. "Bedroom's straight through there. Bathroom's in the back next to the kitchen if you wanna freshen up…or whatever ya'll do."

Religious paraphernalia and Mardi Gras beads lined the red walls of the front room while an eclectic mixture of African masks and second-hand French furniture decorated the pale green bedroom. The kitchen, in stark contrast, was white and bare. It looked as if Lafayette never stepped foot in it, let alone cooked inside of it.

"Well, hate to cut this reunion short, but I got some more upstanding members of New Orleans society waitin' for their evenin' delivery. You call me if you need anything."

Barely hiding her disapproval, Tara nodded and walked her cousin to the front door. He turned briefly to bid Nola a farewell fit for a princess.

"Goodnight, buttercup."

The vivid colors of the room almost appeared to grow dull as soon as Lafayette departed and got lost in the night. Locking the door behind him, Tara turned her attention to a fiberglass trunk sat in the middle of the room next to a bevy of luggage she couldn't be bothered to unpack. The chilled case was filled with seven thousand dollars worth of Nola's favorite blood type. If she was lucky, the supply would last two weeks.

"You hungry, baby girl?"

The uncharacteristically quiet toddler said nothing, yet Tara soon learned that her answer was a resounding yes. In record time Nola drank an entire magnum sized bottle worth of B+.

"More peas," she politely requested each time her Princess and the Frog cup was emptied. Tara quickly obliged the toddler while simultaneously revaluating her original estimate of how long her food supply would last. Not long was the only definite conclusion the increasingly anxious vampire came to. While she had some money saved up, it was only a matter of months before Nola ate through that as well.

Glancing at her watch, Tara noted the hour for the first time since she'd arrived in the city.

_Eight o'clock_.

The night was young, but time was not on her side.

* * *

Tara knew from experience just how hard the Big Easy could be. Had it not been for a retired Thai boxer named Miles Bechet, she might not have survived her first week in the city. The unassuming fighter had been the only one to come to her aid when she found herself accosted by a drunken pair of men, most likely in town for Fat Tuesday.

She'd escaped Mississippi by the skin of her teeth only to discover her living nightmare had followed her to her hometown of Bon Temps. By the time she sought refuge in New Orleans, the fighting spirit had all but left Tara Thornton.

Backed up against a wall, she stood paralyzed until a dark stranger confidently ordered her would be attackers to leave. When the larger of the men refused, a swift elbow collided with his face and left him crumpled on the ground with a bloodied and broken jaw. The smaller of the pair never had a chance to say anything before a knee connected with his groin and landed him in a heap beside his buddy.

"You okay?" the stranger inquired in a perfunctory sort of way while he kept his hazel eyes pinned on his downed opponents.

"Hell no," Tara replied, taking deep steadying breaths to quell the panic attack she felt coming on.

"That's alright, you will be."

Tara stared back at the man in disbelief. She couldn't have fathomed then that the stranger would train her to become one of the most formidable underground fighters New Orleans had ever seen.

* * *

For the second time since arriving, Tara pondered Miles' whereabouts. Was he still in New Orleans? Was he even alive? And would he want anything to do with her if he was?

There was only one way to find out.

Wiping Nola's face clean, Tara bundled her up in a light down jacket, her favorite crochet bunny hat and informed her of their impromptu plans to visit her old hangout in the Seventh Ward.

Although it had been years since she traversed the streets of the Crescent City, Tara quickly found her footing. The hangouts she'd known and loved were all likely gone and forgotten. But there was only one that still mattered to her.

The relief she felt upon finding it open was almost overwhelming. So much had changed. It looked less seedy, for one. When Tara had first entered the building it was through a broken door that led into a dark corridor with a shaky staircase. With no light to lead her she followed the smell of sweat and the sound of grunting until she stumbled on the gym.

To say that things had changed was an understatement.

Holding Nola's hand, Tara patiently walked with her through the brightly lit passage way and up sturdy stairs to an almost unrecognizable space. Gone were the old kickboxing bags that were so worn they had to be duct taped into oblivion to keep their contents from bleeding out with each strike. In the middle of the space, a large caged ring dominated the space.

Inside of the ring two men twined and twisted each other into various attempts at submission. Tara observed the grapplers for a moment, noting their technique. Nola gripped her hand a little tighter as she looked on in kind.

"It's alright," Tara reassured, crouching down beside the girl to explain what she was seeing. "They're only playin'."

Behind them a man laughed deep and long.

"My boy don't play. Not in the ring, he sure don't."

Even after two decades Tara recognized the sound immediately. Rising, she spun around to see her former mentor. Even at an advanced age, his hard face was still as smooth and dark as a coffee bean. Grey hair closely cropped hair replaced the curly raven mop the fighter once sported. There were other telltale signs of aging. He was thinner, for one. And Tara couldn't help stare at the winding koa walking stick he held firmly in his battle worn hand.

"I know I must be losin' my mind, 'cause you can't be-"

Tara's dark eyes grew as wide and hopeful as a child's. At a loss for words, she nodded.

"Get over here," Miles exclaimed, half-laughing in his raspy voice. Marveling, he dropped his expensive looking walking stick to put his hands on either side of Tara's leather clad shoulders as if to straighten her stance. "They say black don't crack, but this shit is ridiculous. You ain't age a single day since…" he trailed off as realization dawned on him.

Tara felt her heart sink at the sadness that eclipsed Mile's smiling face. She wasn't ashamed. She couldn't be, not of something she had no control over. But deep down she still grieved for the person she once was.

"What happened to you, girl?"

"It's a long story."

"So's the bible and I've read it cover-to-cover four times."

"I got turned. I didn't ask for it and I didn't choose it, but it is what it is."

"That's all I get?"

"For now," Tara answered firmly.

"In all these years, you coulda let me know. I wouldn't have judged you for some shit you ain't have no control over. You family here, Toni."

"My name isn't Toni, Miles, it's Tara. Tara Mae Thornton."

"I don't give a good goddamn what it is, you're back and that's what matters. I'll give you all the time you need, but I want the full story."

She owed him that at the very least. And, if she was honest, it would be cathartic to confide in the old man for once. Tara relented with a small smile.

"Alright."

"So I'm guessin' you didn't come here to see my pretty face," Mile remarked knowingly.

"I thought you might have some work for me. I mean, maybe I could help you around here, teach a class or help train a prospect."

Miles rubbed the back of his neck as he shifted his focus to the men in the ring.

"This one here," Miles began, nodding to a brawny man who looked to be in the midst of ripping his sparring partner's arm off. "Built like a tank and he strikes twice as hard as one, but his technique is sloppy and he's too stubborn to listen to anything his daddy has to say about it. Maybe you could work with him."

"That's Gumby?" Tara questioned increduously, referring to Miles's son by his nickname. "When I left a summer breeze could've knocked him over."

"Twenty years ago maybe," Mile reminded, "And no one's been brave enough to call him Gumby since he graduated high school. He'll be thirty in a few months."

"I got a lot to catch up with, huh?"

"We'll work on that," Miles replied with certainty, appraising Tara with the same look of pride he had when watching his own son. "What do you know about the VFA?"

"I know it's a buncha bullshit," Tara dismissed. "Masterpiece Theater for rednecks and morons too stupid or too drunk to care it's all fake."

"Go 'head and touch that cage there, " Miles instructed.

The wary vampire knew from smell alone that the metal was coated in silver. After a second of hesitation, she did as her former teacher asked. The results were as expected.

Tara bit back the curse on the tip of her tongue as she made contact. It burned like hell.

"The hell was that about, you the black Mr. Miyagi now?" she questioned, her voice rising as she fixed Miles with eyes so pitiable they'd make a hushpuppy look cheerful in comparison.

"That feel fake to you? If you can't handle three seconds touching the outside that cage, ain't no way you'll last three rounds inside of it."

"I never said anythang about fightin'."

"You hurtin' for money, ain't you? I've seen young vamps lose and still walk away with fifty grand. If you can hold your own in an older age range, you stand to make a hell of a lot more than that."

"You make it sound easy."

"It's not. Not for most, anyway. I get a lot of wannabes comin' in here with designs on becoming the next VFA superstar. But they don't have what it takes, not like you."

Tara's scoff was immediate.

"Flattery will get you nowhere with me, you know that."

"When have I ever lied to you?" Miles asked indignantly. "If I said it, it's the truth."

Nola tugged on Tara's hand as if she didn't like the topic of discussion. Tara picked the toddler up almost on reflex and whispered petty promises in her ear to stay the tantrum threatening to erupt. It only made matters worse.

"No," Nola whined, rejecting Tara with her tiny but forceful hands. "I want mama."

Watching the scene play out, Miles waved his former pupil away dismissively.

"Take care of your baby girl tonight. We start training tomorrow."

Tara didn't bother to protest the old man's presumptuousness. Instead she adjusted Nola in her arms and set off for the long walk back to Lafayette's house. As a human, the controlled chaos of hand-to-hand combat had been the only time she'd ever truly felt at harmony with herself. Battling the demons that plagued her thoughts, she emerged battered and bruised, yet victorious nonetheless.

Perhaps she would find her peace in the ring once more.


	2. Tessellate

**Tessellate**

* * *

With two-hundred and fifty pounds of human muscle bearing down on her, Tara processed her options with machine like precision. Pushing her hips upward in a bridging motion, she writhed her body as far to the right as she could without exposing too much of her back. A matter of centimeters was all the she needed, however. Her opponent's weight shifted on his knees ever so slightly, just enough to cause him to lean forward and brace himself on the mat beneath them.

Tara seized on the opening. Shifting her left leg to the right, she brought it up and locked it over her opponent's left foot. Bringing her elbows down into a stabbing motion, she unleashed the force of her much tempered strength into a chunky thigh and further unseated the larger fighter reigning over her. Switching the bulk of her weight to the left, she hooked her right arm over her opponent's back and kicked her right leg up hard enough to propel herself under and over the opening she created for herself.

The human swore as Tara swept from beneath him, rolled backwards and hopped up energetically.

"Alright," he heard his father yell. "That's enough."

"E nuff!" Nola echoed raucously. Like a junior coach she would repeat everything Miles had to say to Tara when she was in the ring.

"It's like trying to wrestle with a worm...if a worm had arms and legs and lady things," Tara's human sparring partner complained as he exited the ring.

"You just be glad I'm takin' it easy on you, Gumby," she laughed.

Anyone who didn't know she was vampire would have seen the remark as cocky or boastful, but the truth was Tara had gone to lengths not to use her preternatural speed or strength to an unfair advantage against the formidable, yet ultimately weaker human.

Instead she matched him in power and outmatched him in skill. It had been Miles idea for the pair to train together to work on their respective weaknesses. It was his hope that Gumby would improve on his technique once he had a chance to spar with someone who could take the full force of his power and then some. And in the process, Tara would also learn to fight smarter rather than rely on her strength and speed alone.

After eleven months and forty wins between them, thirty-five of which were Tara's, Miles knew his choice had been the right one. He could only hope his son could achieve the same kind of winning streak.

"You gonna go tell your momma good job?" Miles asked Nola, who was perched on a metal folding chair next to his own.

Nola nodded before confidently scooting off of her chair. Miles sucked in a breath as the little girl moved with the whimsical speed and grace of a baby hummingbird.

"Never get used to that," the old man murmured to himself.

* * *

As often was the case when they visited Miles's gym, Tara made the journey back to Lafayette's house with Nola sitting high upon her shoulders. On the way, the pair would discuss which homes would be a good fit for them. Predictably, Nola preferred everything colorful - pink in particular. Tara, on the other hand, saw the potential in even the most rundown property.

"Do you like that one?" Tara often asked Nola as they stopped in front of an abandoned double gallery house in a sorry state of disrepair. Tara been taken with the house since she first arrived in New Orleans, and with each fight she came closer to realizing her dream of owning it.

"No," Nola would reply loudly and firmly without fail.

"Why don't you like it?"

"Is scare we," Nola would then explain, too young to understand that their kind were the scariest beings the dark had to offer.

Unlike previous nights, however, Tara and Nola did not make their journey alone. Miles' son insisted on accompanying them due to the late hour. It seemed to Tara that the human was also too young to understand that she had little to fear of the night. But rather than reject the man's misguided attempt at chivalry, she agreed to the extra bit of company.

"I appreciate you takin' the time to work with me tonight. I know you got a lot on your plate right now."

"Don't mention it, Gumby," Tara dismissed, adjusting Nola on her shoulders as they walked the streets of Marginy.

"Can I ask you something?"

"That depends. Is it something about me being a vampire?"

The human cleared his throat and smiled nervously. "You must get a lot."

"You have no idea," Tara replied without hesitation A little curiosity was to be expected, but with the great revelation decades behind them, she couldn't understand how or why humans were still so fascinated with even the most basic details about vampire existence.

"Well, lucky for you I wasn't gonna ask you about fangs or blood or anything like that…I was just wondering if you'd like to do somethin' outside of, you know, beatin' each other up?"

"Such as?"

"I don't know, maybe get dinner?"

"Last I checked, blood wasn't on the menu at Applebee's, Gumby," Tara chided the human as they arrived in front of Lafayette's house.

"Right," Gumby said shoving his large hands in his pockets like an awkward schoolboy. "Wait! Do you like dancin'? I may not look like it, but I'mma pretty good dancer."

Tara appraised the young man for a moment. Her interest, if it could even be called that, in him was friendly at best and professional at worst. And in many ways she saw him like a younger brother. Yet, there was something about him that reminded her of the young men she'd known and almost loved in her former life. His dim-witted charm reminded her of Jason Stackhouse while his mild manners brought back memories of her former fling, Eggs Talley. That was then, however. She couldn't get back to the girl who would have been content with a guy like Gumby. And, if she was honest, she didn't want to try.

"I don't thank that's a good idea."

"It's not a good idea to go dancin'?"

"Gumby, do yourself a favor and find a nice _human_ girl to wine and dine, 'cause whatever you're lookin' for? I'm as far from that as you can possibly imagine."

* * *

Watching what looked like a juicy scene playing out between Tara and her painfully handsome sparring partner through a crack in his front door, Lafayette strained to hear what was being said without being detected. He nearly fell over when his cousin turned her back on the man and blurred toward the entrance.

"It's one am. What took you so long?" Lafayette asked, swinging the door open dramatically.

Tara fixed him with a look of unbridled skepticism.

"Since when do you sit around worryin' about the time I get home?"

"Since you took Nola with you. I was worried about my sweet little buttercup," Lafayette corrected, outstretching his arms to collect the toddler from Tara's shoulders.

"You can blame Gumby for that."

"Tara, if that man was any sweeter on you, he'd be a puddle of molasses around your feet," Lafayette teased suggestively.

"Knock it off."

"I'm just sayin'."

"Well don't," snapped, irritation plain in her tone.

"Look, no one's suggestin' you marry him. He probably only lookin' for some supe pussy, anyway…"

"Lafayette!"

"All I'm saying is you could stand to have some fun. You gotta stop punishing yourself."

"Who says that's what I'm doin'?" Tara asked defensively, her arms akimbo.

"Hooker, you get kicked in the face for a living."

"An' you're a drug dealer," Tara volleyed, her accent growing stronger in direct correlation with her annoyance. "Maybe we shouldn've skipped school on career day."

Lafayette pointed an accusatory finger in his younger cousin's direction. "You need to move on."

"I have."

"No, you moved. There's a difference. Half of you in Louisiana..the other never left London."

Tara's brows furrowed deeply at what Lafayette was insinuating.

"Who the hell died and made you Oprah?"

"You can get snappy with me all you want to, but you keep holding onto that torch and it's gonna burn yo' ass up. Trust."

"Thanks for the lecture," Tara twanged sarcastically."Are you done now?"

"That was not a lecture, that was a read," Lafayette corrected just before a knock sounded at the front door. "And yes, I am done. For now. Tell your Mr. Bechet Lala said hey," he teased one last time before he carried Nola off to bed.

"It's your bed time, buttercup."

"No! Is you bed time," came the toddler's defiant reply as she was taken into the home's only bedroom.

Tara waited until she heard the door shut behind her before she answered the one in front of her. Although she knew exactly who was on the other side, the jaded fighter still wasn't prepared for the reality of standing right across from her after being thousands of miles apart for months. She missed her closeness, yearned for it for months, but when the object of her desire was near enough to be touched, Tara wanted nothing to do with her. She slipped into a suit of steely apathy before stepping out of the house.

* * *

Dressed in a form fitting black leather jacket, tighter black leather pants, and brutally red Balmain ankle boots, Pam's silvery blue eyes were unreadable as she stared fixedly at an infinity shaped pendant in the palm of her hand.

Curious as to what had so captured the blonde's attention, Tara's sunless gaze was drawn to the chain in kind. She recognized it immediately.

Nola's chain was thought to be lost for good when Tara arrived to collect the toddler from their former neighbor's home and didn't see it around her neck. In Tara's mind, it was merely a piece of jewelry, no cause for real concern. So she left London without giving it a second thought.

"Where's Nola?" Pam asked without looking up.

"Sleep," Tara answered curtly, agitated by her ex-lover's sudden and inexplicable interest in the child she had previously refused to commit to.

"Fine," Pam said before she turned to leave. "I'll come back tomorrow"

"No," Tara said firmly, grabbing Pam by the arm to spin her back around. "You don't get to pop up in her life after eleven months like nothing's changed. I won't let you," she finished, releasing her maker as quickly and harshly as she took hold of her.

The blue-blooded vamp didn't display the slightest hint of displeasure. In fact, she seemed to enjoy the fiery reaction her progeny had to her. Stepping intrusively close to the unyielding young Louisianan before her, she smiled serenely.

"It's been a spell, I do realize, so you may have forgotten that I am your maker," Pam said, slowly trailing her finger along the soft skin of Tara's cheek down to her angular jawline. "And as your maker, I don't need your permission to do anything."

* * *

Placing a well-worn copy of 'My Mommy has Fangs' on the edge of the bed where Nola was now resting peacefully, Lafayette breathed a sigh of relief. He'd managed to get the baby vamp to sleep and he only had one bite to show for it.

'_Dammit!'_

Lafayette nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Tara curse and slam the front door shut. Squinting beneath his expansive false eyelashes, he hazarded a peek at Nola to see if the commotion in the next room had disturbed her sleep. When he saw that it hadn't, he raised his clenched fists in silent thanksgiving.

* * *

Tara paced the front room like a wounded panther. She couldn't figure out whether she was more pissed at Pam for staying away or for showing up. To top it all off, she was pissed at herself for being pissed that her estranged partner only seemed concerned with seeing Nola rather than her.

"Are you crazy?" Lafayette questioned his cousin in a hushed tone as he exited the bedroom where her child was asleep.

"I'm gettin' there," Tara snarled, her fangs protracting on their own accord.

"M-maybe you should go let off some steam," Lafayette stuttered helpfully. "I'll keep an eye on Nola for you."

"You sure?"

Clutching his red cowl necked cardigan tighter around his neck, the human nodded earnestly.

* * *

It was the dead of night when Tara arrived at the Olympic sized swimming pool Miles had somehow procured for her private usage after hours. Donning a red bathing cap and stripping down to her fight gear, a white sports bra and a skintight pair of white vale tudo style shorts, swimming was the last thing on Tara's mind when she walked toward the edge of the crystal clear blue water and dove in headfirst.

It was cold. And it burned in equal measure.

The pool had been fitted with an ionizer that released both copper and silver ions, which served to compliment reduced chlorine usage and kill bacteria in the water. While beneficial to humans, the microscopic particles of silver were just enough to make a vampire decidedly uncomfortable.

A tiny alarm bell went off in Tara's mind, as what little remained of her human instinct to breath called on her to emerge from the pool and seek air. Quelling the impulse, she centered the full force of her power and let herself sink quickly instead. Feet firmly planted on the bottom as though the upward propulsion of buoyancy didn't at all counteract the pull of gravity, she gazed calmly out at the empty space surrounding her.

As a child, Tara hadn't been afraid of the water, only what lurked beneath it. She'd read enough of Moby Dick, the Odyssey, and countless other classics that regaled with tales of the ocean deep to believe that sea monsters were real. Of course her only access to water back then had been the swimming hole in the woods on the poor side of town.

Bon Temps's black residents had claimed the spot long before the old Jim Crow laws officially banned them from the whites only pool that was built on the other of the small town in the nineteen fifties. It seemed everyone learned to swim there.

Everyone except Tara.

Unlike her friends and family, who learned to swim so as to keep from sinking, Tara learned to swim after sinking was of no consequence.

When she first dove beneath the large choppy waves of the shark-infested South Atlantic Ocean, bordering Namibia's desert coastline, Tara couldn't help but see the irony in finding refuge from the sun she once adored in the depths of the dark waters she once feared. The sea was suddenly the one thing standing between her and the true death. And as she drifted deeper and deeper into the abyss, she realized she had become the unseen monster the bookish little girl from Bon Temps had nightmares about.

It seemed everything in Tara's life had a strange habit of turning out the way she'd least expected.

The most recent reversal was still on the back of her mind. Intent on pushing the matter aside until after her next big fight, Tara instead focused on losing herself in training.

_Right hook._

_Left hook._

_Clinch._

_Knee curve._

_Teep._

_Shin kick._

_Right cross._

_Spinning elbow._

For hours Tara executed hundreds of moves slowly and deliberately. At first, she found it difficult to focus on proper implementation while pain clouded her thoughts. Over time, she became so hyperfocused on her movements that she no longer felt the burn of the ionized water on her skin.

After executing a flying knee with such force she sent a small tidal wave rippling across the surface of the water, Tara drifted peacefully back down to the pool floor. Although she couldn't tell exactly what time it was, having lost track, the muted sound of her mobile alarm reminded her that dawn would soon break.

Propelling herself up and out of the water like a missile, she quickly shut it off. It was only then that she realized she'd missed two calls from Lafayette. Returning the call, she was alarmed to hear his panicked voice on the other end of the line.

"Slow down," she attempted to calm him and make sense of what he was saying. "What's wrong?"

_'You was right.'  
_

"La, I need to know what-"

'_I'm sorry, Tara. For everything.'_

* * *

Fear feeding her speed, Tara made it back to Lafayette's house mere minutes after the call abruptly ended. His purple Cadillac was no longer parked outside, as it was when she left. And from outward appearances, his house hadn't been disturbed. The inside, told a similar tale. Everything was in its proper place, no signs of forced entry or a struggle. Tara sped toward the bedroom.

_Safe_.

It was the only word she could think of upon finding Nola sleeping soundly in her plaid pajamas. Tara's relief was diluted with unease and uncertainty. Her child was safe. Her cousin was not. She needed to find him. She could not leave her. Cupping the back of her head with her hands, Tara shut her eyes and struggled to come to a decision. She found a path forward in the memory of her own words.

_She needs to always come first._


	3. No Room for Doubt

**No Room For Doubt**

* * *

New Orleans' premier vampire hotel, Le Soleil Levant was once a haven for Authority bigwigs seeking an inconspicuous place to sleep and feed while visiting the Crescent city in the early years following the Great Revelation. In the aftermath of the Authority collapse, conversely, the hotel became the destination of choice for nouveau riche vampires who'd succeeded in seizing power from the old guard. Unlike their predecessors, these brash young vampires were anything but discreet.

A fact that became clear to Tara as soon as she stepped inside. Ignoring the various scenes of debauchery taking place in the lobby around her, she strolled up to the reception desk dressed in a red and grey plaid button down, jeans and her trademark Chuck Taylor's.

"Can I help you?" the guest service agent asked in a manner that suggested he was dealing with a lost straggler rather than a new guest.

"Well, see, I'm not too sure now," Tara began in her thick down-home accent. "At first I thought you were standin' back there in a uniform that's two sizes too small because it's your job to help. But since you seem to be confused as to whether or not you can assist me, I have to assume you're just some random fuckwit behind a desk askin' dumbass questions."

Shifting uncomfortably, the receptionist cleared his throat and changed his tune. "How may I help you?"

"I'm here to see Pam," Tara stated matter-of-factly.

The pallid vampire stared at Tara expectantly, waiting for a last name to go along with the first.

"Just Pam,'' she clarified.

A dry look of amusement crossed the receptionist's face when he checked the guest roster and found a listing that was simply "Pam".

"One moment," he said, stepping away to make a phone call.

Pulling back the blanket covering the stirring toddler in her arms, Tara soothed her back to sleep. "It's alright," she said rocking Nola gently while she overheard snippets of the desk clerk's conversation.

"She's Afro-American...and she's wearing plaid."

Before Tara had a chance to react with outrage to the clerk's profiling, two hotel security guards were standing behind her.

"Is there a problem?"

"As a matter of fact there is," Tara began pointedly. "And I don't think the Sheriff of _Area 5_ would appreciate hearin' that his second in command was subject to this kind of backwards ass treatment!"

"Is there still a sheriff in Area 5?" the hotel guard asked his partner. "Pretty sure the last one got his head chopped off."

"Nah, that was the guy before other guy who got injected with silver. The last sheriff of Area 5 got shot."

"Wait wait wait wait," the taller of the guards said suddenly, as though a great epiphany had just occurred to him. "You're Tara Thornton."

"Who's Tara Thornton?" his co-worker asked furtively out of the side his mouth.

"The fuckin' - the chick from Victory Fight Alliance," he stammered, excitedly pointing his finger in Tara's direction.

"Holy shit, that's her?"

"Yeah, I know, I thought she'd be much bigger in person."

* * *

Four minutes, three signed autographs, and two knocks later Tara was standing in front of the one vampire who's face alone could infuriate and relax her in equal measure. Without so much as a snide remark, Pam stepped aside and permitted her access to her sprawling hotel suite.

Tara came to an abrupt stop when she noticed a young redheaded woman sitting on the sofa, clothed in nothing but a white robe. "Really?"

Hand on hip, Pam turned and smiled at her newest plaything.

"The joys of room service."

A soundless laugh erupted from Tara at the remark. She couldn't tell whether it was sparked by the lascivious manner in which her former lover was eying the human or the small part of her that still held some hope she had come to New Orleans to salvage their broken relationship.

"That what they're calling it now?" Tara asked once she gained some semblance of composure.

"Red, be a doll and wait for me in the bedroom," Pam instructed.

"Red, be a doll and get the fuck out." Tara contradicted.

The human's eyes darted nervously between the two vampires as she tried to figure out who was more likely to eat her for not complying. When she saw that they were more focused on staring each other down than her, she seized on the opportunity to leave.

Hopping up from the sofa, she hurried toward the door, only to stop just shy of her destination. The tension between the pair barring her exit was so palpable that she was afraid to step through the space separating them to get to it. She decided to take her chances, however, as well as her mother's advice to re-enroll in junior college if she made it out alive.

"We need to talk," Pam said sharply once they were alone.

"No time," Tara said before unloading her slumbering toddler into Pam's reluctant arms. "You wanted to see Nola? Well here she is."

"What the hell are you playing at?"

"You show up at my cousin's door after eleven months claimin' you deserve a relationship with a child you never wanted in the first place and I'm playing? You wanted to spend time with her. Time starts now."

"At 6AM on a Friday morning?"

"Oh, sorry, are weekends not good for you?" Tara inquired ruefully, her voice saccharine with sarcasm.

Judging from Pam's pursed lips and quirked brow, Tara knew she had backed her ex-lover into a corner.

"Food and clothes are in the bag. I'll be back Monday the latest," she blithely informed Pam before blurring toward the door. She nearly made it her way out of it when she heard the words she dreaded more than any other.

"As your maker, I command you to hold the _fuck_ up!"

Tara swore inwardly as her will to leave abated. With Pam's command in place, Tara knew that trying to find the strength to move would be as useless as trying to track a drop of rain after it fell into the Mississippi River.

Reluctantly, she turned to face her maker. No matter how long they were apart, Pam could hold complete sway over her body and soul. She could strip her of her free will with mere words and bring her to her knees with a simple touch.

"You have no right."

"Funny," the word drifted out of Pam's mouth like a cool summer breeze. "I don't recall releasing you."

"An oversight, I'm sure."

In that moment, the surface of Neptune would have been described as warm and toasty compared to the look in Pam's eyes. If she hadn't been holding Nola, Tara was certain she would have tried to slap her.

"May I remind you that you walked away from me. Twice. Not the other way around," Pam spoke bitterly. "So cut the passive aggressive bullshit and tell me what the fuck is going on."

"...Lafayette's in trouble," Tara admitted after a long duration of silence. Urgency plain in her voice, she elaborated as best she could with what little information she had to give. "He's been selling V."

Pam was characteristically unmoved by the news.

"Any idea who his supplier is?"

"I don't know. He visits LaPlace every few weeks, says he's gonna visit a friend. Some Cajun guy."

"A Cajun in Southern Louisiana. That narrows it down."

Rubbing her temple Tara struggled to remember the name of the man she'd only heard her cousin mention in passing. She thought back to a phone call she'd heard before she left for Miles' gym earlier that evening.

_Look, Garou, that shit was limited time only. Like the McRib, feel me? Off the market until further fuckin' notice._

"Garou," Tara blurted out. "His name is Garou."

At the mere mention of the stranger's name, Pam's expression grew suddenly and almost imperceptivity murderous. Her impassive mask fell back in place with well-honed ease, but not before her progeny noticed the shift.

"What do you know?" Tara questioned.

"If I tell you, you have to promise me something in return."

"Name it," she agreed without a moment's hesitation. If it meant the difference between life and death for Lafayette, she didn't care what it entailed.

"Promise me you won't leave until sunset. And not before saying goodbye to her," she added, nodding slightly at the baby vamp resting soundly against her.

Tara opened her mouth to protest, but words evaded her when she thought of her child waking up without her and not knowing or understanding why. Nola had experienced enough upheaval in her short years on Earth. She couldn't, in good conscience, be the cause of more confusion for her.

"I promise."

Satisfied, Pam departed with Nola for the bedroom. Seconds later Tara felt the invisible tethers that bound her ability to leave the room on her own accord disappear as if by some witch's spell.

Despite herself, Tara was still awestruck by how completely her maker could dominate her. When Tara had first been turned, the metaphysical power Pam had over her will terrified her. She fully expected it to make her new life a never-ending nightmare.

Yet Tara's fear of being commanded quickly subsided when she realized that the few occasions Pam exercised her power had been to keep her from meeting the true death, by both her own hand and as a result of her impulsive actions.

Had anything truly changed, she wondered?

* * *

After an hour or so of tossing and turning on the rock hard sofa that had inexplicably become her bed for the day, Tara resigned herself to staying awake for the foreseeable future. She'd slept in graves more comfortable, but it wasn't simply discomfort that kept her awake.

She was worried for Lafayette. Terrified, if she was honest.

Ten hours was a long time to wait when a man's life was in danger. And Pam hadn't even attempted to uphold her end of the bargain to tell her what she knew. Tara was beginning to wonder if she was simply stalling her because of what she knew.

There had been a time when she'd trusted her more than anyone, but now her doubts concerning the brutally honest vamp outweighed the certainty she once felt about her. Nearly a year later and Tara could still hear Xiomara Vargas's voice mocking her.

_Blondie made a vampire before you._

She knew deep down that the revelation had been the cunning vampire's means to get into her head and shake her judgement. Nevertheless, that didn't mean her words weren't true. Everyone kept secrets when it suited them. Tara was certainly no exception. She'd spent months living a lie to escape dealing with her past. And so it wasn't long before the seed of doubt Vargas planted in Tara's mind grew so vast that she couldn't see the forest for the trees.

"You're bleeding."

In her sleep-deprived state, Pam's presence in the room took Tara completely by surprise. Shifting until she was sitting fully upright, she caught sight of her standing in the doorway to the bedroom. Still clad in the black leather outfit and suede boots she wore like weapons, the disquietingly composed vampire slinked amongst the shadows of the unlit room.

"Here," she breathed, lowering a white handkerchief to wipe the scarlet trail running along her progeny's right ear. She didn't make it far, as Tara's hand shot up and gently halted her wrist.

"You still haven't told me what you know."

Sighing, Pam stuffed the cloth in her back pocket.

"Your idiot fuckin' cousin's been selling V to a pack."

"Of werewolves?"

"No, cigarettes, Tara," Pam replied impatiently, rolling her eyes.

"What makes you so sure?" Tara pushed on, completely immune to the acerbic vampire's sarcasm after years of prolonged exposure.

"For years, the queen of Louisiana had trouble with a particularly dogged pack of werewolves who preyed on vampires. Humans told their children bedtime stories of a blood-drinking monster called the Rougarou that would eat them if they ventured too far from home or forgot to say their prayers. In truth, there was no single 'monster'. There was, however, a clan named Garou. Their numbers were thought to be few, as they kept to swamps and bayous and only killed vampires stupid enough to hunt on their territory. Unfortunately, they spread like roaches and were twice as hard to kill. For a time, the sheriffs were successful in chasing them out of Louisiana…and into Mississippi."

The room fell silent as both vampires recalled Tara's run-ins with werewolves in the neighboring state decades prior. Even before she'd been turned, Mississippi had been the place where she learned of their existence. Six months after she'd been turned she nearly met the true death at the hands of one.

_Now why'd you have to be that way? __All we wanted was a lil' blood._

The memory was so stark that Tara could feel the burn of silver around her neck.

Without thinking she bolted off the sofa, consumed with the desire to slaughter each and every V drinking werewolf she could get her hands on.

"In due time," Pam soothed, gently placing a hand over Tara's dormant heart to still her restless soul. "You need to rest."

"How can I? Pam, if anything happens to Lafayette, it'll be my-"

The blame Tara had attempted to place on herself was stifled in her throat. She mustered a slight whimper in its place as she melted into the unexpected kiss like ice in the heat of the Gulf Coast sun. Before the dumbstruck vampire could properly register what was happening, she'd been pulled under a familiar spell. As deceptively strong as an undertow and several times more lithe, her former lover slowly worked her magic. The couch that Tara would have previously described as concrete covered in cloth felt like a cloud against her exposed back. Pastel eyes enchanted while gifted fingers and capable lips fashioned a timeless ballad to which Tara couldn't help but sway. Hours masked themselves as minutes until the concept of time ceased to exist altogether and the universe seemed to fall away in a flash of blindingly bright light.

In the wake of long elusive euphoria, dreamy dark brown eyes drifted shut just before they were flooded with garnet colored tears.

_Goodbye._

* * *

ASS EVERYWHERE! ASS EVERYWHERE! ASS EVERYWHERE!

"Fuck," Tara cursed, falling off the sofa with a thud as the heavy bass of Big Freedia's 'Mo Azz' boomed from her mobile phone. "Lafayette," she murmured, remembering how her missing cousin had set the bounce song as her alarm solely to piss her off.

_My phone_. _Where's my phone?_

It wasn't until she began searching for the device she kept in her pocket that Tara realized she wasn't wearing any pants. From across the room she heard a small giggle.

"Hey, baby girl," she greeted her toddler who was laughing at her like she was a circus clown.

Without a word Nola held out the phone her mother was searching for.

Wrapping a sheet around her naked body like a towel, Tara crossed the room to collect it.

"Thank you," she said, taking the device and shutting off the alarm. Noting the time, a sense of dread began to overwhelm her. She'd overslept. It was two hours after sunset. "Where's mama?" Tara asked, crouching down in front of Nola. The toddler stared at her bashfully, as though she'd just been asked a trick question. After a moment she pointed in Tara's direction thinking that to be the correct answer.

"Pam," the increasingly panicked vampire called out. When she received no response, Tara blurred into the bedroom.

Empty.

A quick search of the bathroom produced the same result.

_Shit, shit shit._

In a fit of anger, Tara slammed her fist into the bathroom vanity. The cuts that resulted marred her hand only briefly before disappearing without a trace.

_Like nothing ever happened._

Staring at her own desperate and splintered reflection in the mirror she'd just shattered, Tara remembered words she thought she'd only dreamed she heard.

_Goodbye._

* * *

Read meee: Someone asked if Pam's perspective would be featured in this story. At this point I'm thinking not...because reasons, but I think the (Lianne La Havas) song the chapter is named after is very fitting for Pam's POV for this chapter (probably the whole story, really). Honestly, I didn't plan it but I just saw her perform that song live and came up with a scene that (I hope) evokes similar emotions. Much thanks for the reviews. They definitely keep me going. I haven't gotten back to them just yet because I wanted to get this to you guys first (gonna do that now) and I'm running short on time. But I will. Promise. Anons, I would reply to you, too, but I can't because you're anon :P The comments box is open, let me know what you think of this installment. Hope you enjoyed it.

Forgot to mention, as funny as it sounds, _rougarou_ is kind of an actual thing. If you consider a swamp bigfootwolfpire legend a thing.


	4. Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood

**Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood**

* * *

Making his way across state lines, Junior Garou nervously glanced into his rear view mirror. His journey was coming to an end, but the young Mississippian was still more nervous than he could ever remember being. For miles he felt like he was being followed. So much so that he'd taken to back roads to evade the unsettling feeling, as well as any State Troopers who might take interest in the flamboyant Cadillac he was pushing.

Reaching into the back pocket of his faded denim shirt, he found a tiny perfume sample bottle that had been repurposed to hold four hundred dollars worth of vampire blood. Its contents exhausted and dried, Junior rammed his tongue against the opening in a desperate attempt to collect the meager bit of residue of what was left before tossing the spent vial out of the window.

He felt the invigorating effect of the supernatural drug almost immediately. It was just enough to keep him focused on reaching his destination. Unfortunately, it was also just enough to remind him that he hadn't had a proper hit in weeks, not since Lafayette Reynolds cut him off without warning.

In that short span of time Junior's life had taken a dramatic turn for the worse. Having never been a heavy user of V himself, his withdrawal symptoms hadn't posed too much of an issue for him. His clan, on the other hand, had taken the loss much harder. V had become a twisted sacrament for his hard living kin even before he was born. So when he failed do his part and provide their drug of choice, he found himself treated little better than a stranger.

For unlike his relatives, Junior was sired by a human, an outsider from a small town in the Northern reaches of Louisiana. Though he'd been allowed to keep the family name, the wereblood that coursed through his relatives' veins ran weak in his own. When his ability to shift failed to manifest as a child, he learned he could have no true place in his mother's pack as a human.

All of that changed decades later when Junior became the wereclan's chief supplier of the blood they craved. For the first time in his life he was embraced like a brother and nearly as respected as pack master. But once the proverbial well ran dry, so too went any gains he'd made in the hierarchy. Smacking his hand against the wheel, he silently cursed the man he blamed for his current predicament.

In his frustration he nearly didn't see the figure standing in the middle of the two-lane road. Swerving, to avoid them, he nearly drove into a ditch in the process.

Breathing heavily as he pulled the car to a halt, Junior retrieved his gun from the passenger seat before angrily forcing the driver's side door open.

"Hell you doin' standin' in the road like that?" he asked in his deep Cajun brogue, marching back to the catalyst of his near crash. "I coulda ran you down just now," he finished quietly as he found himself standing across from the most striking woman he'd ever seen in the flesh. Forgetting himself, he stood transfixed by her wavy flaxen hair, full lips, feline eyes, and what had to be the sexiest figure south of the Mason-Dixon.

"What you doin' out here all alone?"

The question was met with silence.

"Look, I'm sorry 'bout yellin'. Had I known you was a…"

It wasn't until Junior noticed the woman staring fixedly at the gun in his waistband that he realized how alarming he must seem to her. She backed away suddenly, as if reading his thoughts. With every step he took forward, she took three backward.

"I ain't gonna hurt you. I swear."

Desperate to keep the future mother of his children from running off, he carefully removed his gun and lowered it to the ground. "See," he said, sliding the weapon in her direction. "You can have it."

To his surprise the woman made no attempt to take the weapon, instead she stared straight past him at his Cadillac.

Following her line of vision, Junior realized she'd heard noises coming from within the trunk. His mouth suddenly dry, he turned to grab his discarded weapon.

What he found instead was an empty space where the gun once rested. Gone, too, was the woman he'd offered it to. Before he had a chance to make another move, an ominous click sounded directly behind his head and rooted him to where he stood. Though far more subtle than the click of a pistol hammer being cocked back, it was no less foreboding. Trembling, he turned to face his fate.

* * *

It had been necessity that lured Lafayette Reynolds back into selling V. With his oft ailing mother's nursing home bills mounting, his job as a short order cook long lost and his cousin long departed for another continent, the V trade was the one lifeline he had left to cling to. Lafayette knew better than most how to move it and, with more than enough connections in the vampire world, he knew get it. Once he'd been assured that vampire lawmen like Eric Northman now had greater concerns than punishing human dealers, Lafayette's mind was made up. Whatever risk remained was too negligible to concern himself with. There was simply too much profit to be made.

For years, the gamble paid off. His clientele was small but loyal. More importantly, they were demanding. Still, when the opportunity to expand his market to Mississippi presented itself, he seized upon it. In retrospect, Lafayette realized that trusting Junior Garou had been a grave mistake. His life playing out like a bad dream in his mind's eye, it was only the latest in a string of other missteps.

'_I can't believe you could still be this damn stupid.'_

The hazy sound of his cousin's voice roused Lafayette from unconsciousness, but it was the screech of tires that woke him up. The car rumbled and shook beneath him as it swerved dramatically and sent him careening against the right side of the trunk. Just as quickly as the turbulence began it ended. Lafayette listened in complete darkness as a car door slammed shut.

'_Hell you doin' standin' in the road like that_?'

Although his sense of place and time had long abandoned him and a pounding migraine made it difficult for him to focus, Lafayette's survival instinct was as strong as ever. He hadn't survived nearly fifty years on Earth to be shepherded like a lamb to slaughter. His hands bound behind his back, he had already pulled at the restraints until his wrists were so raw he passed out from the pain. All he had left were his feet. Twisting onto his back he kicked with all of his might. The sounds of the conversation outside grew faint as the thud from his boots filled his ears. Letting out a roar, he gave one final strike that sent a rattle through his bones and forced him to stop. He let out a small cry of failure that was quickly trumped by an infinitely more ghastly sound.

Junior's scream sliced through the darkness with the ferocity of lightening bolt before fading into the night with similar swiftness. A harmonious sonata of crickets and cicadas quickly swallowed up the chilling silence that followed.

For the first time in hours, Lafayette had no desire to see what was going on outside of the confinement of his car's trunk. In silence he willed Junior Garou's attacker to pass him over.

Per usual, he had no such luck.

Seconds later the trunk door suddenly popped open to reveal a startlingly bright moon that beamed down on his bruised face. Before he could bring himself into a sitting position, Lafayette was pinned by the sight of what he first thought was a hallucination.

Her skin almost as pale as the celestial sphere shining down upon him, she stared down at him with mischievous yet unfeeling eyes. Her bloody lips curved into a subtle smile.

"Lafayette, how long has it been?" she crooned with the friendly pretense of a politician and the haughtiness of a socialite.

Lafayette let out breath he hadn't been conscious of holding.

"Yeah, a whole fuckin' month of Sundays," he rasped sounding as relieved as he was frightened. "You know Tara ain't never gonna forgive you if you eat me."

"I'm not going to eat you," Pam answered, rolling her eyes. "Turn over."

Lafayette did as told, but not before watching the vampire who'd previously threatened to kill him warily. He felt cold hands brush his skin as they traveled to the metal cuffs binding his wrist and snapped them off as easy as one might break peanut brittle.

"Alright, up and at 'em, princess. Another five minutes here and you're going to want back in that trunk."

Lafayette attempted to push himself up into a sitting position but failed miserably. Every inch of his cramped body ached. Her hand moving to her hip, Pam scoffed impatiently.

"Have a drink, on me," she offered eventually, extending her wrist.

"I may be all fucked up, but I ain't that fucked up," Lafayette replied with some effort as he managed to climb out of the trunk. A weeks worth of nightmares about blood and boobs Barbie wasn't exactly on his to-do list. "No offense," he added quickly.

"None taken," Pam said, gingerly heading toward the car's front passenger seat.

Lafayette's expression was incredulous as she opened the door and climbed inside. After slowly shutting the trunk, he limped his way to the driver's side and painfully lowered himself into the seat.

"I don't mean to trouble you, but I ain't exactly in tip-top chauffeuring shape, if you catch my meaning. Would you mind-"

"Yes, I would. Now drive," Pam ordered, the sharp edge to her voice unmistakable.

"Driving now," Lafayette said enthusiastically as he turned the key in the ignition, hit the gas and screeched into a U-turn.

* * *

The first few miles of their journey back to Louisiana was made in silence. Try as he might Lafayette couldn't get over how surreal it felt to be driving alongside the vampire who'd terrorized him on various occasions back in his small hometown. Against his better judgment he attempted to have a conversation with her.

"I never got a chance to say it before, but thank you for doing this for me."

"Keep those pretty little eyes on the road," Pam advised him. "There's still a good chance you'll get your throat ripped out before we make it into Louisiana."

"So fuckin' much for small talk," Lafayette murmured as he nervously looked over his shoulder at the pitch-black road behind them.

While he had long accepted the notion that people, or rather vampires changed, there was nothing to suggest that Pam was vastly different than the coldblooded vamp she came across as. It didn't help that Tara hadn't discussed Pam at all since arriving in New Orleans.

Turning his curious gaze onto the caustic vampire, Lafayette tried to imagine what could have possessed his cousin to stay with her two decades.

"What are you staring at?" Pam asked suddenly, pinning him to his seat with her predatory glare.

"You got a little somethin' somethin' by your mouth," Lafayette lied, dabbing at the corner of his mouth to show where the fictional spot was. "A little to the left."

Pam turned her attention from him to check her reflection in the visor mirror. As she did, a photo of Nola fell into her lap.

His eyes darting between the road and his stoic passenger, Lafayette half expected her to toss it over her shoulder. Instead he watched in astonishment as the vampire studied the image of the toddler and smiled fondly.

"Tara took that. It was Halloween, so she decided to dress baby girl up and take her trick-or-treating like the rest of the kids in the neighborhood…I didn't even think that child knew how to smile until that night. When she first arrived from London, I just figured sad was her default expression."

Lafayette paused for a lengthy moment, noting the unreadable expression on the vampire's face before continuing. "I'd hate to see her like that again."

Pam's brow rose sharply at Lafayette's words, but she said nothing. Quietly placing the photo back into the visor from which it fell, she stared straight ahead with eerie stillness.

"You think she's ill served by my presence."

"Oh no," he lied. "I didn't mean-"

"Of course you did," she spoke casually, sitting demurely with her hands resting upon her lap. "No need to coy among family."

"Family?"

"Isn't that what we are? If not, I might have to reconsider why I came to help you."

Pam's voice was all airy Southern charm, matching perfectly with her feigned pageant queen affability. But Lafayette had seen and heard it all before.

"Okay, see, nows I know you fuckin' wit' me."

"Really, Lafayette, is it so difficult to believe that I might care about your well being?"

"Yes," he replied instantly.

"You win. I don't give a flying fuck about what happens to you," Pam admitted smoothly. "But Tara's had enough grief for two lifetimes without having to worry about cleaning after your messes."

"Well Shit, if that's the case, you shoulda left my messy ass in that trunk."

"I was tempted, believe me," Pam admitted honestly. "But I owe you a solid."

"For what," Lafayette asked disbelievingly. "Not bleeding on your shoes?"

When Pam failed to volley back, Lafayette was left wondering if he'd gone too far in his bantering with her.

"Do you remember the night Tara was killed?" She asked seemingly out of the blue, her gaze turned toward the darkness outside of her window.

"Remember? I wish I could fuckin' forget."

The memory of finding his wounded cousin was still as vivid as a dream in Lafayette's mind. Losing Tara had been his worst nightmare, one he was desperate to wake from.

"Funny, I look back on it fondly," Pam said wistfully. "Like an awkward first date."

"That's some sick shit to say," Lafayette replied judgmentally. "Even for a vampire."

"You of all people should see the bright side of that night. I would have walked away if you hadn't stopped me."

Lafayette cleared his throat, still haunted by choice he made to turn his best friend and staunchest defender into what she hated most.

_Hold up, hold up! Turn her for us._

"I betrayed her."

"Please," Pam said dismissively. "Anyone else would have let Tara become another casualty in the war for Sookie Stackhouse's sparkle snatch. But you, you delivered her."

"Yeah, right to the devil's doorstep."

Pam smirked at the damning comparison.

"I wasn't exactly a saint," she conceded with a shrug.

"If that ain't understatement of the year," Lafayette began angrily, carried away by his recollection of the vampire's heel pressed against his chest. "You were ruthless."

"Mostly, yes," Pam drawled diplomatically.

"I mean seriously fucking sadistic..."

"Okay, okay, I get the point," Pam said, raising her hands as if physically blocking out the past. "I was a real bitch."

"And now you ain't?" Lafayette asked skeptically.

Pam tipped her head ever so slightly in his direction.

"I've been told I have my moments," she said before the car grew silent once more.

To his surprise, Lafayette found himself wanting continue the conversation. He wouldn't go so far as to admit to himself that he enjoyed the Pam's company, however. Instead, he chalked it up to curiosity about the vampire he fettered his cousin to.

"So what changed?" Lafayette asked noncommittally, his eyes shifting to the road as if didn't care whether or not he received a response.

Pam watched him all the while, a knowing glint in her gaze.

"I was won over by the transformative power of love, of course," she lulled sarcastically. "Was that the answer you were looking for?"

It was Lafayette's turn to roll his eyes.

"Just what I thought," he mumbled, annoyed at himself for thinking the vampire felt anything close to human emotions. He reached down to turn on the radio when the bone chilling sound of howling stilled his hand.

"Keep driving," Pam instructed coolly. "No matter what, don't stop."

Nodding nervously, Lafayette gripped the steering wheel tighter.

"Maybe I should close the window," he began before looking over to find his passenger seat vacant, save for Junior Garou's pistol. "Ain't that about a _bitch_!"

Pressing down on the pedal, Lafayette picked up speed. But it wasn't quite fast enough. Before he knew what was happening, a mass of muscle and fur smashed through his rear window.

"There you are," he heard Pam's voice behind him soon thereafter, followed by growling as the car screeched and swerved wildly.

Torn between keeping the car on the road and his head on his shoulders, Lafayette opted to keep driving as Pam instructed. He craned his neck slightly to see her struggling to hold the colossal creature down on the floor of the back seat as it gnashed and clawed at her.

"Shoot it," she demanded, spurring Lafayette to reach for the gun.

He soon discovered shooting while driving wasn't half as easy as Hollywood movies made it out to be. Splitting his focus between the road ahead and the mêlée behind him without crashing was nothing short of impossible. Grimacing, he aimed blindly into the back seat and pulled the trigger twice.

In the aftermath of the deafening explosions, all was quiet.

"Did I get it?"

"No. But if it makes you feel any better," Pam began, pushing the dead werewolf's human remains out of the window of the speeding car with a huff. "You did shoot me.

"My bad," Lafayette apologized weakly over his shoulder.

"Watch the road," Pam instructed before she flew off once more.

"Oh, hell fuckin' no!"

In the distance, Lafayette spotted a pack of wolves standing ground in the middle of the road. He knew ramming them all would be impossible, but some were better than none. Steeling his jaw, he slammed down on the accelerator.

As he neared, he caught a glimpse of a streak of dark color sweeping swiftly through the gathering. One by one they were propelled into the dense woods alongside the road, flung into the air, and tackled into trees.

Just before Lafayette's car came dangerously close to crashing into the two remaining wolves, the blur descended from the sky and snatched them up by the scraps of their necks like naughty cubs before ascending again to allow the vehicle passage.

From his rear view mirror, Lafayette watched the werewolves plummet from the sky and retake their human form after smashing violently into the ground. Averting his gaze from the gruesome sight, he glued his eyes to the dark asphalt paving his way home and sped forward.

For miles he drove anxiously, half expecting a ferocious werewolf to land in his lap and rip out his throat, but the roads remained empty. For hours he listened for their howls to signal his end, but was greeted with quiet instead. By the time he crossed Louisiana state lines, he was certain he'd left danger behind him. Still, it wasn't until he neared his adopted city and saw the sun shining over Lake Pontchartrain that he breathed his first sigh of relief.

* * *

His car wrecked and his body bruised, Lafayette had never been so happy to be home. Limping into his small shotgun house, he was even more relieved to discover that Tara and Nola had taken shelter elsewhere. Collapsing onto his sofa, he closed his eyes and willed the hours of the day to pass slowly. He didn't have the words to tell his cousin about what happened to Pam. And he certainly didn't have the heart to hear her blame him for it.


End file.
